


Come Undone

by hitokiri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Winchester, Coming In Pants, Dark Dean Winchester, Grinding, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Dean Winchester, Praise Kink, Season/Series 09, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: Dean has been hiding himself away ever since getting the Mark of Cain. Sam's tired of the silence and loneliness and goes to a bar to drown it all out. Dean doesn't like what he finds there.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 246





	Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> This is not beta'd.
> 
> Unapologetic angry/dark/possessive!Dean. OMC/Sam also.

Since getting the Mark of Cain, Dean’s been more aggravated and angry, locking himself in his bedroom in the bunker for more hours than he spends in the war room with Sam. It’s been making Sam antsy and worried. He doesn’t like when his brother closes himself off. Dean just tells Sam to go away when Sam knocks on his door, or tells him to leave the food there and he’ll get it later.

It’s tearing Sam apart.

He starts spending more time outside the bunker; can’t stand the silence without his brother sitting across from him. He takes walks in the wooded area, exploring the acres of land the Men of Letters had surrounding them, preferring the sound of nature than the cold silence inside the bunker.

There’s a bar just on the outskirts of Lebanon, about half an hour from the bunker -- more a dive bar than anything -- but it has plenty of noise and people to help him drown out the pain of rejection from his older brother. There’s a local band playing. They’re not exactly talented, but they’ve got the crowd moving. The lead singer moves with a sway, slurs his words and sloshes the solo cup of alcohol in his hand as he dances around the stage. They’ve got a grungy rock sound about them that Sam might like if they weren’t inebriated.

He makes his way through the swaying, sweating crowd to the bar. There are several empty stools considering most of the patrons are in the crowd around the stage pretending to sing along. He takes a seat two stools away from a man, ignoring him for the time being. The bartender makes his way over and takes his order, returning moments later with a bottle of beer. He sets it on the sticky counter.

It isn’t until Sam is lifting the bottle to his lips that he notices the man two stools away staring at him. He’s a good looking man, dressed too nice for a filthy bar like this, but Sam and Dean come to bars like this all the time dressed as FBI; who’s Sam to judge the way someone dresses coming to a bar alone?

“You come here often?” the man asks, breaking the silence between them. Sam can’t help it, he snorts out a laugh, almost spitting his swig of beer back into the bottle. Is this guy for real? He gets himself under control just in time to hear the man ask, “What’s so funny?”  


Swallowing the beer, Sam sets the bottle down on the bar in front of him, turning to give the man his full attention. “’ _You come here often?_ ’” he replies, laughter in his tone. “Just... been awhile since I got that one, you know?”

They both share a laugh about it and Sam feels like the tension has started to lift from his body, ascending away from him and giving him breathing room. The last of his chuckles dissipates as the man holds out a hand and says, “Jason.”

“Sam,” he replies, and shakes Jason’s hand. “And as a matter of fact,” he continues, eyes crinkling with mirth. “I do come here pretty often. At least for the past couple weeks.”  


“Just to wind down, or are you looking for something?” Jason asks, and Sam thinks he hears something hopeful in his voice. He hasn’t known the man long enough to be able to read him, but he’s a hunter, he can read people regardless. “Perhaps there’s trouble at home?”  


Sam tenses, gripping the bottle tight. He breathes in, shoulders and chest puffing as if in defense. He doesn’t want to talk about home, or about how his brother ignoring him hurts. He doesn’t want to be reminded that being without Dean is like living without air.

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean anything by it--”

Sam closes his eyes and lets out his breath. When his eyes open again, he lets the mask fall back in place and he smiles at Jason. It doesn’t reach his eyes this time. “It’s okay, man,” Sam says, trying for lighthearted. “I just. Yeah.”

“No worries. If you wanna talk, I’m here. If you just want a distraction... well...” His eyes rake over Sam’s body, up and down predatory. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t be opposed.”  


Before Sam can answer, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. _DEAN_ flashes across the screen and Sam feels his stomach drop. They haven’t spoken in days, not really. Part of him is scared to answer the phone, but another part of him is more scared that there’s something wrong.

He smiles apologetically at Jason and says, “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” and accepts the call. “Dean? Everything okay?”

_“’Everything okay?’ Are you serious? You’ve been gone for hours, Sam_.”  


“Dean, I’m fine. I’m just at a bar.”  


“ _Bar? What bar? Where?_ ”  


Sam doesn’t like Dean’s tone. He says, “The one outside Lebanon... about half an hour away. Is everything okay?”

“ _I’m on my way_.”  


“Dea--” _Click_. Sam looks at his phone in shock, whispers, “What the hell?” then pockets his phone again. Dean doesn’t speak to him for over two weeks, closes himself in his room, only coming out to shower and eat but only when Sam isn’t anywhere near, then all of a sudden Sam’s having a good time at a bar and then Dean’s coming to get him.

Sam took a car from the garage, he doesn’t need Dean to pick him up.

“You alright, Sam?” Jason asks, concerned.  


“Yeah, just-- my brother’s coming to get me in half an hour.”  


“So we’ve got half an hour, huh? How ‘bout that distraction?” He’s got a predatory grin on his face as Sam looks at him in confusion. “No strings, baby, just two consenting adults making each other feel good, yeah? I can make you feel _real_ good.”

Sam feels a blush run down from the tips of his ears to his face and down his neck. He’s never been so blatantly hit on by a man before, not in this particular way anyway; only innocent flirting, never any potential propositions. He’s never found himself interested in any men either, honestly, besides the one that he’s been trying to suppress his whole life. He feels a warmth pool in his belly at the idea that he’s attractive to a man as attractive as this one, albeit the fact that it’s no the man he was wishing for.

“If you’re not sure, I’ll walk right now, Sam,” Jason says, putting his hands up as if to say he means to harm. “If you’re not interested you’re not interested.”  


“No, I--” Sam swallows, nervous like he hasn’t been in so long. “Yes. I-- yes.”  


They’re running out of time. They have twenty five minutes now, give or take, until Dean is going to be there, and Sam doesn’t want Dean to know he’s getting his rocks off with another man. He doesn’t think Dean would care, but it still isn’t something he really wants his brother to find out.

Jason throws enough cash on the bar for both their drinks and a tip, and takes Sam’s hand as he stands up, pulling Sam with him. Sam swallows nervously when he sees that this man is actually taller than him, but only by an inch or two, and even wider than him. He’s got wide, muscular shoulders. He’s intimidating. “Let’s go, baby,” he says, tugging on Sam’s hand and leading him towards the bathrooms where there’s an exit door down the hall leading outside the bar.

It’s dark behind the bar, just one light for the bartender to just be able to see when he takes out the trash at the end of the night. Sam doesn’t have much time to think about anything before he’s pressed against the brick wall of the bar and kissed to within an inch of his life. He’s used to being with women, smaller, nowhere near as strong, and soft. He’s only really been roughhoused with a women when it was Ruby. She had so much demon power, she could pin him with a look, hold him down and take from him what she wanted.

But she was still small and fragile looking.

Not Jason, though. He’s big and strong and holding Sam tight against the wall as he kisses him hard. Sam doesn’t have a chance to breathe between kisses; the man is taking from Sam exactly what he wants, what he’s wanted all along. Sam just has to go along for the ride.

He’s not paying attention when Jason’s hands move down and grab each globe of his ass, squeezing hard, kneading the flesh underneath his jeans. Sam gasps into the kiss, his hips canting forward for friction. He’s never been touched like this before, never been manhandled so thoroughly. He’s harder than he’s ever been.

Those big hands slide down, grasping at his thighs and pulling, lifting Sam off the ground until Sam is forced to wrap them around the man’s hips to keep himself from falling, though he doesn’t think Jason would just drop him.

Jason growls against his lips and bites at the plump flesh before pulling back enough to trail his hot mouth down to Sam’s neck and bite. Sam clings hard to Jason’s shirt at his back, writhing against him as the man thrusts their pelvises hard against each other. Sam is shivering with want, panting as Jason grinds against him, begging, pleading to come.

“Please, please, pl--” he cuts off on a loud moan, throwing his head back against the wall as Jason grinds particularly hard, denim against denim against Sam’s clothed rock hard cock. Jason holds himself still, pushing hard against Sam and grunting. The back door swings open as Sam’s eyes close tight, his mouth opens wide on a shout, and “ _Dean_!” is screamed from his kiss-swollen lips.  


“Dean?” Jason asks, pausing against Sam. “Who the fuck is Dean?”  


* * *

“ _I’m_ Dean.”  


Neither of them seemed to have even heard the door open, but here it is wide open and Dean stands there, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he looks on at the sight before him.

“D-Dean--” Sam stutters, dropping his shaking legs to the ground when Jason’s grip loosens.  


“You didn’t tell me you had a fucking boyfriend, Sam,” Jason says quietly, teeth gritted. He pulls back, releasing Sam completely.

“Jason, I-- He’s not--”  


“Yeah, _Jason_ ,” Dean growls, threateningly. “He has a boyfriend, and he’s fucking _pissed_. Get the fuck out of here.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the man who had just been grinding against Sam until he’s disappeared through the door back into the bar. He finally turns his furious green eyes on his little brother. The Mark pulses on his forearm and he’s itching for a blade, or anything sharp that can cut the throat of the man who just had his hands on Sam.

He takes a dangerous step forward, closer to his trembling little brother. “So this is what you get up to, huh, Sammy?” he asks, voice cold. “While I’m in my room, locked away to protect you from me, you come out to a nameless bar to fuck any random guy you can find? Is that it?”  


“No, Dean, I--”  


“Shut up, Sam,” Dean growls, stepping closer and closer until he’s inches from Sam, forcing his brother to flatten himself against the wall. “If you wanted to get fucked so bad, baby boy, all you had to do was ask.” Before Sam can react, Dean’s got a hand around Sam’s throat, cutting off his air and pinning him roughly against the bricks. Sam’s large hands lift and wrap around Dean’s forearm, trying to get him to let go, but Dean tightens his grip. “No, no, baby, you want to be fucked, it’s gonna be by me and me alone.”  


Leaning up, Dean lets go of Sam’s throat just as he crushes their lips together. Sam whimpers into his mouth and Dean slips his tongue inside, claiming his brother and kissing away the other man’s taste so only Dean is left. He feels Sam’s arms lift and wrap around his shoulders, clinging tightly to him as Dean gentles the kiss before pulling back. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers. His anger had dissipated since Sam started to kiss back and relax against him. “You belong to me, Sam, do you understand?”

“I understand, Dean.”  


“Good boy.”

Dean unbuttons Sam’s pants and then his own, freeing both their cocks. He takes their dicks in each hand, jerking them both slow and tight. He needs to coax Sam back into hardness while he works on getting himself hard, though just looking at his brother against the wall was plenty. As much as it pissed him off that someone else was touching Sammy, Dean can’t get the look of Sam coming in his pants out of his mind. His little brother is undeniably beautiful, he always has been. Dean regrets not claiming him sooner. This is the only thing he will thank the Mark for: it has given him the courage to take what he’s wanted since he was twenty years old, possibly even younger.  


“That’s it, baby,” Dean whispers, slowing the movement of both hands. Sam is trembling between him and the wall, shaking like a leaf as Dean blows on his ear. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Dean...” Sam pants, whimpering.

Dean knows he’s got to be sensitive now, too much stimulation to his pretty dick. “It’s okay,” he soothes, letting go of their dicks and sliding his hands up his brother’s chest. He’s lost weight since Dean came back from Purgatory, since Sam took a year off from hunting. This past year hasn’t brought back the muscle definition but Dean likes Sam this way, too. Sam will always be beautiful. “Lose the shirt, kiddo, then get on your knees for me,” he commands, voice dark, as he steps back to watch his brother obey.

Sam’s shaking as he does what he’s asked and Dean likes that. Dean likes that Sam is both scared and turned on. If Sam didn’t want this, he could say so and Dean would stop. Maybe.

The Mark of Cain is ruining so much, and now it’s taken away all his inhibitions. He tried for over a week to hide away to keep Sam safe from his darkest desires. He’s only ever wanted to protect Sam; he suppressed these desires for so long that now, with the Mark, it just shattered every wall he built up and dropped fifteen years of desire for perfect little brother right onto him. He can’t keep it in anymore.

He has to make Sam his.

Sam is his _birthright_.

“Good boy, Sammy,” he praises, brushing the long hair from in front of Sam’s pretty face before tilting his head up by a soft grip on his chin. “You’re so good, darlin’, so good for me.”

“Now I need you to stay good for me, baby, can you do that?” Sam looks up at him, hopeful, waiting. “If you’re good, I might let you come later. Will you be good?” Sam nods. “Good. Open your mouth for big brother-- yeah, good boy,” he growls when Sam does as he’s asked. He takes his dick in his hand again and steps closer to Sam so he’s barely an inch from Dean’s hard and leaking dick. He presses his member against Sam’s lips, cautiously pressing inside. He moans long and loud when the swollen head of his dick is engulfed in warm, wet heat. “Oh fuck,” he moans, slowly pushing further. “That’s it, baby, fuck--”

He stops pressing when the head hits the back of Sam’s throat and Sam whimpers. He feels him start to gag around his dick and holds still, carding his fingers through Sam’s hair at the back of his head. There are tears shining in Sam’s closed eyes, threatening to fall, and Dean thinks they’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He caresses Sam’s flushed cheeks, coaxing his eyes to open with a gentle, “Look at me, Sammy.” The tears fall when those gorgeous hazel eyes open to look up at him with complete love and trust. Sam is trusting Dean not to hurt him. It makes the Mark on his arm pulse to do the opposite of what Sam wants, but it also makes a warmth pool in his belly that his little brother trusts him so much.

He wipes Sam’s tears away and pulls his hips back to start thrusting. They keep eye contact the whole time, Dean reassuring him with his eyes that his trust in him isn’t unfounded.

Unable to take the slow thrusts anymore, he picks up speed and fucks Sam’s mouth. He’s warm and tight, wet and perfect around Dean’s arousal, drawing him closer and closer to his orgasm the more he moans and whines around the girth in his mouth. Sam was made to take Dean’s dick, born for his size and shape and length. Sam belongs to him, and when they get back to the bunker he’s going to fuck Sam’s tight, virgin ass, come inside him and claim him in every way possible.

For now, he can only do this, unwilling to fucking his brother for the first time against a filthy brick wall at the back of a bar next to a dumpster.

When he’s close, he pulls his dick out of Sam’s mouth, watches as saliva trails between Sam’s swollen lips and Dean’s red and pulsing dick, connecting them for a few extra seconds before he gets too far away and the string breaks. The flush on Sam’s cheeks is wonderfully appealing, making him look soft and debouched and ready to be fucked.

Dean _wants_.

Without wasting any time, he starts stripping his dick with a rough fist, green eyes watching Sam’s beautiful flushed face as he brings himself closer to completion. Sam waits, obedient and patient, knowing he hasn’t been told to move yet. Dean is so proud of him, his chest swelling with that pride and making him pump faster, wanting to cover his boy with his load.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah-- Sam, _fuck_ , baby, so good, fuck, fu--”

He comes in hot and thick white bursts, covering Sam’s flushed, shocked face and his naked chest. He steps closer and keeps pumping, thrusting his fist to milk his dick for all he’s got, covering his little brother with his come. It’s in his hair, dripping down his face and his chest, running down into his open jeans and rolling onto his still hard dick. It’s red and angry, neglected, but so fucking hard springing from his pants. Dean kneels down too, inches from Sam, and uses both hands to smear his come into Sam’s heaving chest. He arches into Dean’s touch, stomach constricting under Dean’s touch as he trails his hands lower until he’s able to grasp his neglected, pretty little dick.

Sam shouts in shock, not expecting to be touched it seems, and Dean smirks when he uses his own come on his hand to ease the friction burn when he jerks Sam rough and fast. Sam’s losing balance, panting and begging, moaning Dean’s name and unintelligible words as Dean works him to completion.

He screams Dean’s name and comes hard, all over their hands and Dean’s clothes, and collapses against the wall behind him, flushed and panting. Dean follows him down and kisses him hard, giving him no chance to get his breathing back to normal.

They pull back for air after what feels like forever. Sam looks tired and sated, content, and Dean feels so smug and power hungry. He’s hard again by the time he pulls away from Sam and stands. It’s nearly impossible tucking his hard prick back into his jeans, but he gets the deed done -- not bothering to button them back up since he’s just going right back to the Impala -- and helps his little brother stand up on shaky legs like a newborn fawn. He helps Sam tuck his spent and flaccid cock into his own jeans and zips them up for him before bending down to pick up the discarded shirts.

Sam takes the t-shirt first, about to wipe the come off his chest, but Dean grips his wrist to stop him. Their eyes lock and Dean shakes his head. “Dean...”

“Wear it. It’s my mark until I can find something permanent.”

Sam blushes so beautifully, then nods slowly, before slipping the t-shirt on over his sticky-wet chest, then putting the flannel on next.

“Good boy,” Dean praises again, pleased at his brother’s submissive nature. “Now get to the car. We have to christen the bunker. I’ve gotta come inside you while you come on every available surface in there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
